Tuesday at noon I walked briskly to my car (your equivalent of running) for lunch as usual, to escape the mad house that was Monday morning.  I put my key in the starter, quickly turned it and it didn’t start.  Turned it again, and again no go.  I didn’t have time for it at the moment, because I have all kinds of important things to do at lunch like eating.  And all kinds of things later this week that required that my car work.  So I just hoped for the best, got it started with some struggle later in the afternoon, and made it home.

It was still not starting like normal, so I had to call in an expert to look at it.  My brother-in-law came over, popped open the air filter that looked like it had gone through two wars and a depression and asked, “When was the last time you changed this?” Of course, I’m like, “Never.  Why would I ever change that?”  And he said, “You’re supposed to change this like once a year.” and I was like, “I’ve only had this car for 7 years, so the average amount of time I’ve changed it is, carry the one, um zero times a year, average. So I’m only off by once a year.”  Needless to say, the car started with ease as soon as he took it out.  I was advised to go get a new filter.

It takes a lot of parts to run a Bitter car.  It takes even more to run a Bitter Ben.

Accelerator – Believe it or not, I have one.  Believe it or not, I don’t use it most of the time.  In fact, using it would be completely anti-productive.  Because I don’t operate in drive.  I don’t even operate in neutral.  I operate in Park, as in park myself on the couch. The only reason I would have for an accelerator, was to get out of an awkward situation like having to talk to someone.

Exhaust – It takes a lot of work to be bitter.  Some people think I wake up looking this bad.  But it takes a team of people ignoring me to get the scowl just right, the sour puss look just right, and the hair looking perfectly disheveled and the eyebrows to come together in just the wrong unibrowed way.  And after getting ready, I’m all out of energy, so I’m just exhausted.

Brakes – I take a lot of them.  In fact, I take all of them.

Carburetor – No one really knows what a carburetor does in a car.  But I am a Car Berater.  Whenever I see my car not working, despite the fact that I haven’t changed the air filter in seven years, or I haven’t gotten an oil change in a year, or I haven’t filled the gas tank in two weeks, I start berating the car.  Though the car shouldn’t feel bad, because I berate all kinds of inanimate objects that don’t work.  The toaster, the TV, the Microwave, the computer, the phone.  So the car should just get over itself and stop being such a whiny brat and just take me to work like I tell it to.

Fuel – Something has to fuel the bitterness.  Believe me, this is not the 1973 oil crisis where people had to wait in line for overpriced gas.  This is more like the Deloreon at the end of Back to the Future when Doc Brown visited the future.  The gas tank took banana peels, empty cans and even garbage.  My bitter fuel tank will accept any combination of rage, frustration, under appreciation, perceived slights, or even an unwelcome nod.

Filters – There is all kinds of happy people wandering around and a bitter person needs a way to keep them from infecting his roughly running bitter machine.  That is where the filters come in.  There are happy filters, achievement filters, optimism filters, and even efficiency filters.  Though I have from time to time not checked the filters for seven or so years, I always manage to have enough bitter willpower to overcome those  things. Sometime my happiness filter is full of too much sunshine or the optimism filter is too full of rainbows(there can be no rainbow without the miserable rain. Think negatively!) but I will always find a gunky filter to shut those things out from my bitter brain.

So take care of your bitterness machines by neglecting them.  Because with improper care, they can take you on short journeys.  And isn’t a short journey all you really want to take?

ARRRRGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Fuel Raged Ben